


Sampling Bliss

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Double Penetration, Father/Son Incest, Fluff, M/M, PWP, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4170276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros and Maglor want to try something new, Fëanor is all too happy to indulge them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sampling Bliss

The melodious call of a hooting owl sounded from somewhere in the garden, wafting into the room through the open window, and Fëanáro instinctively hoped that Tyelcormo was asleep and wouldn't decide to get himself into trouble in order to familiarise with the elusive creature. 

“I'm sure Turco's all right,” Maitimo said, following his father's gaze as it flickered to the window. “He's an adult now, he can look after himself, even if he's out,” he went on, then dived to kiss him, so that Fëanáro would have to turn his attention back to him. “So...what is your answer?” 

Fëanáro stared at him for a moment, then at Macalaurë. What they had asked wasn't entirely unexpected. He himself had hinted at it a few times, testing their reactions, but the urgency with which they had asked had surprised him. And they wanted him to bottom.

“We've been thinking about it for a while,” explained Maitimo, idly pinching his right nipple, made red and sorely sensitive by his own rough handling of it.

Fëanáro whacked his hand away, but not too firmly. It was back almost immediately.

“We've also read about it,” Macalaurë added, his legs still tangled with his father's where he had sprawled, momentarily sated, after being fucked by him while Maitimo had taken Fëanáro in turn, in what had become a frequent arrangement when they were all three together. But they were young, and open to experimenting. “A mildly entertaining book, though I presume we can do much better”.

“You said you already tried it.” Maitimo's hand glided to his father's stomach and laid over it, tickling the navel.

Fëanáro nodded, squirming slightly at the touch. “I did, both ways”. He made his voice sound weak and hesitant on purpose, enjoying how his sons were shamelessly cajoling him.

“Then it'd be incredibly unjust of you if you refused to do it with us, considering you did it with somebody you didn't even love. Not as much as us anyway,” Maitimo smiled, a naughty smile that made him look, if possible, more handsome than he was, even with his hair half tousled half sticking to his forehead with sweat. “Besides, you know you can't say no.”

“You can't say no to us,” Macalaurë reiterated, sliding closer to him. “And I know you don't want to,” he punctuated in a sultry whisper, narrowing his eyes.

Fëanáro turned to look him in the eye, but Maitimo took advantage of the movement and leant down from where he lay on his side to kiss and nuzzle his nape.

“Please?” he entreated, licking down to the red mark he had left almost an hour before on the exact spot where neck joined shoulder.

Macalaurë's left hand ghosted over his father's chest, barely close enough to tickle the skin, a tantalizing gesture as well as a reminder that he could attune him like one of his musical instruments, if he purposed to. He had the patience, and the doggedness to.

Fëanáro was tempted to keep on feigning uncertainty, to make them plead even more, but his own renewed arousal had reached the point where drawing it out would only have been frustrating. And Macalaurë was right, he could never resist them. His facial muscles relaxed and he sighed, going slack against the pillows.

“I have raised two ruthless foxes that toy and amuse themselves with their prey before devouring it,” he lamented in mock exasperation.

“A willing prey that yearns for the moment its captors plunge into his body.”

Fëanáro's face cracked into a smile, and he trailed his hands down his sons' bodies to fondle the erections poking him on both sides. “Try to keep in mind that I have to be at the Royal Library tomorrow, at least, will you?” he said and rubbed the tip of each cock with his thumb before releasing it.

Macalaurë grinned and sat up to take the near-empty phial which stood on the nightstand. Maitimo laid back down in the middle of the large bed (his own, the fact that it had been built to match his size turning out to be particularly useful). His hands reached for his father; Fëanáro took them in his and sat astride him.

“You had this in mind from the beginning, didn't you?”

“Maybe.” 

Maitimo tilted his head up for a kiss, but Fëanáro merely graced his mouth with a quick peck.

“You tricked me. A quiet night together, you said. You didn't mention I'd have to overexert myself when you hauled me out of the bath,” he playfully protested, while he positioned himself over his erection. 

“Time in bed together is always...invigorating.” Maitimo took hold of his buttocks and forced him down, entering him for the second time that night. He had, by then, done it countless times during the twenty-five years they had been lovers, yet he was still filled by an euphoric contentment whenever his cock slid into his father's ass, effortlessly overcoming the initial token resistance. 

The elation he felt was mirrored on Fëanáro's face, and the diamantine intensity of his gaze as he shifted on his knees when the whole length was in him, the fact that he was still loosened and slick with Maitimo's own seed helping make the penetration painless. He bent down for a kiss, his unbound damp hair spilling over his shoulders and mixing with Maitimo's red, their mouths meeting and separating and locking again. 

Macalaurë looked on, engrossed. They said poetry was a gift of Eru, but the purest poetry he had yet found was in his father and the way he looked when nothing else mattered save pleasure – pleasure that came from Macalaurë himself or his brother or both of them – and he was exposed in it, but not in a way that hinted vulnerability. Rather, the image that Macalaurë was most reminded of was that of a lion's bared fangs. 

He poured a generous amount of oil on his right hand, and balanced the phial on the footboard. He knelt between Maitimo's legs and caressed the lower portion of his father's spine with the index finger of his right hand, trailing it down until it slid into the cleft. His left hand he put to the small of his father's back, silently urging him to stay still. When Fëanáro did, he began to circle the stretched skin snugly wrapped around Maitimo's cock. He made sure to lubricate all of it, and slipped the finger in after some time, as delicately as he could. 

Fëanáro willed his body to relax, and Macalaurë, perceiving it, started wiggling the finger around, teasing both his father's inner walls and his brother's shaft. 

He added a second finger after a while, pushing both in as far as they could go, and pressed them upwards to stretch more. He took his time, briefly stopping twice to retrieve the phial and add more oil in and around Fëanáro's opening, and relishing the shivers that coursed through both his father and brother – his father's anticipation, and his brother's mounting impatience. He finally poured all that was left of the oil on his own erection, discarding the depleted phial. 

Maitimo's mouth curved into a lopsided smirk - but his heart thundered in his chest and he was sure his father could hear it too - and he opened his legs wider to make more room for his brother (they had discussed several possible positions, and planned to try them all out). Macalaurë slid closer on his knees and grabbed his father's left hip, guiding his cock to his opening with his other hand. He rested the tip over his older brother's shaft and took a deep breath.

Fëanáro braced himself, but couldn't help groaning when Macalaurë pushed in. Maitimo promptly brushed his hair from his face, laying soft kisses on his cheeks and neck, while his hands glided down and started to roam all over his back and sides in a soothing caress, and in an effort to restrain his own feverish need to move and possess him again. 

Macalaurë inched in slowly, but without ever stopping until he could go no further, at which point he heaved a long, blissful sigh. 

“It's- it's beyond what words can describe.”

“I-...agree,” panted Maitimo, nearly overcome by the thrilling sensation of his brother's cock squeezed tightly against his own in the clenching heat of their father's ass. It was so perfect -

“- so perfect I could write a song about it.”

“It would be splendid.”

“I swear I'm going to spank you both until you can't sit down when I can stand up again,” growled Fëanáro, racked by shudders of intense pleasure that clashed with the strain in his back and legs.

“I'd love that,” countered Macalaurë, and slapped his father's buttocks.

“You -”

Fëanáro's protest died into a gasp, as Macalaurë pulled back and pushed back in, causing the muscles in the lower half of his body to tense again. 

It took some time for Fëanáro to grow fully accustomed to the double penetration. He had consented to it only once before – it was something he didn't feel comfortable doing with people he didn't fully trust, and his trust was not easily gained. With his sons there was no question of it. They loved him and knew him like nobody else. He loved them and trusted them like nobody else. He could let them take control without any misgivings, and it was that awareness, palpable in the hands stroking his skin, that helped him through the initial unease.

When all trace of tension left his body, the brothers exchanged a silent acknowledgement. Macalaurë hooked his hands over his shoulders and set a sluggish rhythm of deep, drawn out thrusts, interspersed with Maitimo's shallower thrusts from below. Soon Fëanáro began to respond to the penetration, and Macalaurë bent forward, planting his arms on either side of Maitimo's larger body, completely trapping their father between them. 

“So? How is it to give yourself to your sons like this? To slake the craving of both your lovers at the same time?” he murmured in Fëanáro's ear, drawing on his thoughts to further incite him, jerking his hips sharply into him.

“Isn't it intoxicating?” He caught the ear-tip between his teeth and nipped it. “Isn't it delirious?” He dragged his teeth down along the curved membrane and to the lobe. 

“Our father, our lover, our own,” whispered Maitimo, laving Fëanáro's face with kisses and licks. 

Fëanáro moaned their names in breathy sobs – and it was more than a yes – completely given over to the feeling of Macalaurë's weight above him and Maitimo's warmth beneath him, and their cocks stretching him and filling him greedily, and sliding together into him. His own cock slid and rubbed against the firm expanse of Maitimo's stomach, smearing it with precome. The friction – both in and out – was more than intoxicating, more than delirious, and he would have climaxed if Maitimo hadn't gripped the base of his erection just in time.

“Wait for us,” commanded Macalaurë, as he straightened back up and grabbed his hips, increasing the speed of penetration again, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh like music in his ears. Maitimo did the same, using all his strength to buck up into him, not as fluidly as his brother, but still forceful and demanding. 

A second orgasm quickly surged. Fëanáro struggled to hold it back, concentrating on matching his sons' movements as best he could, though he could barely hold himself up by then. He held out for a while longer, and came seconds before Macalaurë let out a loud (decidedly unmelodic) scream and shot his seed deep inside him. Maitimo followed a while later, his back arching off the bed in time with his liberating grunt.

Macalaurë gently pulled out and sat back on his haunches to regain his breath, eyes closed to imprint the ecstasy still coursing through him into his mind. Maitimo cradled their father on his heaving chest, riding out the aftershocks of orgasm while still in him, murmuring _tatanya_ until his ragged breath settled. 

“I don't think I will be able to move for a while,” Fëanáro mumbled drowsily, while Maitimo withdrew from him and carefully rolled him to lie on his back.

“You don't have to.” 

Macalaurë stood up to fetch the water basin and a sponge, which he set on the bedside table. Fëanáro accepted to be cleaned without protest for once – he closed his eyes instead, and enjoyed the cool touch of water on his sticky skin and sore ass.

After the brothers had cleaned up too, and the basin was returned to its stand, Macalaurë climbed on the bed again. “I can come with you tomorrow, I could assist you,” he offered as he reclined on his father's free side. 

Fëanáro, who had been drifting into sleep, opened one eye to look at him – sex always put Macalaurë in a playful mood, and he could become downright irritating. “I don't need assistance, they simply want me to revise a couple new manuscripts they've made of one of my works.”

“Exactly. Two pairs of eyes would be better for the task, wouldn't they?”

“No, you'd only be there for your own amusement.” 

“That too, of course. Nothing beats hearing serious scholars flattering you for the skill of your mind and hand knowing what you did with both the previous night.” 

Maitimo snorted and Macalaurë winked at him. 

“You'd have your fun at your father and lover's expense,” Fëanáro accused, but only half-seriously. Banter with Macalaurë was just as enjoyable as sex.

“No, at theirs. But you would be the catalyst, of course. You are at the root of it.”

“So it's my fault.”

“Well, as I recall I didn't exactly have to beg to get what I wanted from you when I first expressed my desire, so...I guess you could be deemed guilty of debauching your innocent second son, at least.”

“Innocent -”

“Like a little lamb,” Macalaurë nodded, with a demure smile that could have fooled anybody else, but not his father and older brother.

“A black leopard on the prowl.”

“It's not a bad idea, though” Maitimo suddenly put in. “I guess I could come too.”

“See? It's a reasonable proposal, if Nelyo too says so.”

Fëanáro knew he would not prevail over them, again. “Sleep now,” he commanded, putting an end to the banter. 

“It's your turn to look after the others in the morning, Cáno.”

“Yes yes,” Macalaurë assented. “I'll be sure to wake up before them.” He snuggled against his father, resting his head on his chest, right where his heartbeat was.

Maitimo threw one of his long legs over both father and brother and curled around his father's smaller body. 

Fëanáro sighed. He was very likely not going to be able to sleep much, with his sons practically blanketing him, but their very closeness heartened him, and it was enough.


End file.
